


barefoot in the kitchen (sacred new beginnings)

by jessicawhitly



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: Neither of them slept well anymore. The dark made it easier, but sometimes peace couldn’t be found, even in the softest of embraces; even in the comfort of the bed they shared.
Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	barefoot in the kitchen (sacred new beginnings)

**Author's Note:**

> Just something a little soft, hopefully considered sweet. For Annie and Liz, who told me to write Jopper when I asked. Title from Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift.

Joyce isn’t surprised when she rolls over to an empty bed in the middle of the night.

There’s still a hint of warmth to the bare sheets, so he hadn’t been gone long; her fingers trace over them, lingering, and she shuts her eyes again, the sleep tugging at her gently. She wavers, teetering just on the brink, but when she feels the minutes pass and the bed doesn’t dip with his weight, Joyce rolls onto her back and blinks up at the ceiling, sighing softly.

Pushing the sheets back, Joyce slips from the bed quietly; she wraps herself in one of his flannels left lying over the chair in the corner, and pads down the hallway. She checks in on each of the kids, reassuring herself they were all still asleep before following the dim light glowing from the kitchen.

She finds Hopper stirring something in a bowl, starring distantly out the darkened window; it’s not quite sunrise, but the promise of it glimmers on the horizon. Joyce leans quietly against the doorway, simply watching- she knows he knows she’s there, his awareness different since they’d gotten him back.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she finally asks softly, and Hopper shakes his head turning until he can lean back against the counter and regard her softly.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, and Joyce shrugs easily.

Neither of them slept well anymore. The dark made it easier, but sometimes peace couldn’t be found, even in the softest of embraces; even in the comfort of the bed they shared.

“Kids still out?” he asks, and Joyce nods, peeking her head back down the hall out of habit.

“El even still had her headphones on. I think Jonathan made her another tape,” Joyce tells him, and that pulls a small smile onto his face. “Whatcha makin’?”

Hopper tilts the bowl in her direction, the thick, dark contents gleaming in the low kitchen light.

“Brownies. Will mentioned he’d been wanting them,” he answers, and Joyce’s shoulders soften as she’s unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Any way I can help?” she asks, even though it’s almost three in the morning and it looks like he’s nearly done.

“You can grease the pan,” he tells her, and Joyce washes her hands in the sink, rolling up her sleeves before she grabs the Crisco and works on the pan as Hopper reaches for a wooden spatula to smooth the batter in the pan. They work around each other naturally, at ease with each other- in the year since they’ve lived together, they’ve grown to know each other’s patterns, each other’s steps. It’s as easy as breathing, and by the time the brownies are in the oven, Joyce feels the tug of sleep on her once more.

Resting her against Hopper’s bicep, she feels his fingers curl gently around her elbow; Joyce hums, allowing her eyes to slip shut as she soaks in the warmth of his body against hers.

“I might fall asleep on you,” she murmurs, feeling the rumble of his chuckle in his chest, echoing under her palm.

“Don’t have anywhere to be for the next fifteen minutes,” he tells her, and Joyce snorts, keeping her eyes shut. “Sure you don’t want to move to the couch?”

“No. I want to be with you,” she says, and his lips are gentle against her hair a few moments later. Warmth suffuses through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and Joyce allows a small sigh of content to leave her. “You do realize the kids are going to wake up as soon as they smell baking brownies, right?”

“I had considered the possibility,” he replies, a hand stroking gently over her hair. “’S why I checked to be sure we had vanilla ice cream too.”

That pulls a full on laugh from Joyce, and she nuzzles into the thin t-shirt he wore before tilting her face up to look at him, squinting against the fluorescent kitchen light. “You think you’ll sleep again tonight?”

Hopper’s quiet for a few long moments, and then he nods.

“I think so. Long as you’re there,” he finally says, and Joyce brushes her lips to his collarbone.

“Always,” she murmurs, and it isn’t just a response to today. It’s deeper; and easier to say on the cusp of dawn, in the purple-gray light that sweeps through the window above the sink.

They’d find daylight together.


End file.
